Burdens We Carry
by Avengers-IronMan
Summary: Tony Stark died years ago, heading for that big, fluffy cloud in the sky. Unfortunately, heaven's not all it's cut out to be. When Bruce arrives and a large incident calls upon their assistance on Earth, Tony see's it as his opportunity to get back to his home. Relationships: Stony, Bretty, and Clintasha. Inspired by All Dogs Go to Heaven.


**Prologue: Death of a Hero**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. Marvel proudly holds that title.**

Bruce lays in a puddle of agony, all of his built up energy reserves leaving him. Cuffs held his arms in place, as he felt the liquid ice creep slowly –painfully- through his veins.

A machine to his right keeps beeping like an inconsistent metronome. Beep. Beep beep… Beep. Beep. Beep beep… It's an annoying rhythm that grates at his already on edge nerves.

The lab he's in had a sterile white backdrop, the disinfectant tang in the air left much to be desired. It looked to be a normal hospital room, but it was far from it. He knew better than anyone that appearances really didn't matter in the long run.

The bleeding misery circles by his legs, stiffening them against the affliction.

_Please stop. I can't take this pain._

God, his first solo mission since… He died, and Bruce was already messing it up.

What would Tony say…?

_God damn-it Dummy, where's my coffee?_

_**Yep, that would be Tony.**_

Above him, pointed nosed scientists poked and prodded at his slightly green tinged skin. Now there's a thought; why hadn't he transformed yet? His genius brain probably would have begun asserting into that possibility, if he wasn't so damn tired.

He tried to pull his arm up to rub his forehead, but was instead met with a bruising pressure around his wrist. Chinking metal echoed around somewhere in his eardrums.

Oh, right…

He's chained to a surgery table.

How'd he manage to forget that?

He winced again; the ice burning it's way up to his skull. Migraines cracked his mind in two, starting in different areas and working in, until his entire brain ached sourly.

_Please, if there is a god out there, kill me now._

He opened his eyes again –when had he closed them- to see white mushy monsters –who are they- glaring down on him. With his limbs aching like this he wouldn't be able to fight them off. He turned his throbbing head to the right, not wanting to watch the ravished, deformed creatures rip apart his skin. What met his gaze was perhaps worse than the initial ghoulish figures above him.

_Please._

A massive green blob entered his sight, grey and peach mixing in to make a putrid swirl of color.

_Green. Peach. White._

_Dear lord._

_It's Ross._

Who else could it be? Even through the haze of pain and confusion, Bruce could never forget that face. Those were the features that haunted his dreams at night. That smirk was enough to make Bruce forget that he was the carrier of the giant green rage monster. Speaking of which…

"Wy cnt tanfom…?" He manages to say through the haze, causing his jaw to ache terribly. He attempts to rub it. _Chains, Bruce, chains_.

_Please. Make it stop._

The green blob –Ross- shifts closer to the table, "Do you like it? I had it made _just _for you _Doctor Banner._ The cure to all your problems! It's a shame you won't be able to enjoy the unveiling of our new hulk-soldiers to the president, but you'll be a little tied up, won't you?"

What had Bruce done to upset this green creature?

_It's Ross; he doesn't need a reason._ Something in the non-painful part of his head provides.

One of the white deformations hobbled up to the general, a small brown square held securely to his chest. He shifts from foot to foot, waiting for the full attention of the superior.

Finally noticing the anxious scientist, Ross hisses, "_What?"_ irritated at the disturbance in the middle of his gloating.

_I'll never ask for anything else, please make it stop._

Bruce felt the pain begin to ebb from his limbs, going completely numb in exchange_. Thank you._

Black began to spot his vision, the already blurred images becoming blotched further, to the point of being completely unrecognizable. He didn't care anymore, as long as the excruciating pain was leaving; he was fine with the loss of sight.

In fact, a nap sounded rather pleasant right now.

"Were losing him sir," The now completely distorted white out spot exclaimed, "I don't know how much longer his insides can hold out, and his body is deteriorating as we speak. The cure has failed."

A smashing sound reverberated through the large black fog overcoming his conscience, a loud shriek following it closely.

"What do you mean? What good does having monster soldiers do us, if we can't fix them afterwards? You said you had the cure! So fix this. Now!" The green gorilla shouted, slamming his meat glove on a workstation.

"I can't. I told you we needed further testing. There's nothing we can-"

The green monkey shifted to a panther, stalking around his white prey hungrily. "Don't give me that. Do your science shit on him, and _**fix this**_."

The black abyss toying at the edges of his eyes close farther into his vision. And god, he's just so _tired_ that he allows his eyes to close.

_Only for a second, then I'll figure out a plan._

Shouts of rage drift off in the distance, as the acid that had been consuming his body finally, _finally, _reaches his heart, melting his most vital organ. In his last moments of anguish, Bruce swore he heard the machine next to him break.

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_**Beeeeep…**_

_**A/N: This idea is completely inspired by **__**All Dogs Go to Heaven**_. _**R&R Please.**_


End file.
